


Melting Away

by SF2187



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SF2187/pseuds/SF2187
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**The Force Awakens spoilers** Before he was Kylo Ren, he was in love with the best pilot in the Republic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> Boy howdy, I have not written fic since I was a wee pre-teen and never Star Wars, so this was a new experience. Talk about nervous to post, ha!

i

 

Poe hasn’t seen this new guy around before. Some kid—no, Poe realizes, a man, albeit barely one, not much younger than he—who skulks in the shadows and watches the pilots as they check over their X-wings and verbally spar across the hangar, voices echoing off the high ceiling.

As he runs his hand along his ship’s cool hull, he almost thinks he can feel the man’s dark eyes on his back.

Karé, hair braided back in her usual way, pops up from under his ship’s pointed nose, grease smudged across her grinning face and an hydrospanner spinning between her fingers. Her head tilts in the direction of the shadowed newcomer; “Got a fan, Dameron.”

“Who is that guy?”

Shrugging, she tosses the spanner over the ship’s closed S-foils at Poe’s face. He catches the tool instinctively, focusing back on his ship’s shield generator, since BB-8 said the shield was “wonky” last flight. Still, he can’t ignore that gaze on him, almost can’t resist the urge to glance over his shoulder.

Karé joins him at his side, leans against the ship with a scrutinizing air as Poe fumbles with the hydrospanner. “Y’know, I hear Princess Leia’s around at the moment.”

It’s this that makes him pause. “Leia Organa? _The_ Leia?”

“How many other Princess Leias you know of?”

“I don’t think she’s a princess anymore,” Poe says. For the briefest moment his eyes meet the other man’s over Karé’s shoulder, and it’s like there’s electricity in the air the way the hair on his arms stand on end. The spanner slips from his grasp, clattering against the floor. A curse escapes his lips as Karé snorts at his manifest clumsiness.

When he rises back from under the ship, the hydrospanner returned to his hand, the man is gone, melted away into the darkness.

 

ii

 

“Hi.”

Poe starts at the man suddenly beside him, spilling caf over the side of his mug in his shock. Ignoring the brown liquid burning his hand, he flashes his winning smile at the newcomer as he takes in his dark eyes, clean-shaven jaw, lips that are almost too pink.

“Hey.”

“I think you spilled your caf.”

“You don’t drink caf like this? It’s good hand moisturiser.”

A small smile plays across the new guy’s lips. “It would make a terrible moisturiser.”

“Meiloorun juice makes great shampoo, too. Do you use it? You’ve got such gorgeous locks.”

The young man touches his hair, almost self-consciously, and Poe decides to change topics despite his fascination with this man’s dark, fluffy hair.

“I’m Poe, Poe Dameron. Best damn pilot in the Republic. Who are you? I’ve seen you around.”

“Ben.”

“Just Ben?”

“Just Ben.”

The commlink at Poe’s wrist chirps, saving Poe from not knowing what to say next—a first for the pilot, usually not one to draw a blank in conversation.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta—”

“Yeah, you should—”

They both pause, laugh.

“See you around, Just Ben.”

 

iii

 

Being near Ben is like flying through an electrical storm for Poe, all adrenaline and static filling his brain. A feeling he can’t bring himself to put into words to explain to his squadron when they question his late-night disappearances.

So he says nothing at all, and for the first time since losing his mother he just lets himself _feel_.

 

iv

 

“Do you ever think the Republic is wrong?”

Poe snorts, raises his head from where it rests on Ben’s chest to meet his eyes. Eyes he feels he knows as well as his X-wing.

“Never.”

Frowning, Ben’s gaze flickers away, his nose wrinkling. “Sometimes I do. It was a corrupt Senate that threw our galaxy into war so many years ago. Don’t you think we’re just continuing the same cycle?”

“My parents didn’t fight against the Empire for nothing.”

All Ben replies with is silence, and all Poe can think of is how his mother used to sit him on her lap as she flew her old A-wing, and of his father’s fears that their fight was all for nothing.

He wonders if Ben fears the same.

 

v

 

In the half-light of the darkened apartment, Ben digs his elbows into his thighs, holds his own head between tense hands. He is a broad shouldered shadow, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Pale strips of light fall across the bed, seem to melt onto the floor. He can feel Poe’s softly snoring presence behind him, the pilot smartly snoozing at this unnecessary hour. There’s the urge to wake Poe, to let his fear tearing at his heart out into the open and ask for help.

But he feels frozen, paralyzed by the fear he can hardly place. The fear of a galaxy falling apart, of being sent away, of losing his family, of losing—

—losing Poe. Anger rises in him at the thought of telling Poe everything and having him walk away. No doubt he would, the hotshot pilot would be disgusted, so blinded by his love for an empty Republic and, Ben realizes, his love for the man he thinks Ben is.

When the anger leaves, Ben is once more left alone with the cold terror that has plagued him for so long.

So he says nothing at all, and slowly the light turns pink and the birds start their morning calls, and another night has slipped past without much-needed rest.

 

vi

 

The door slides opens to complete chaos, as if a TIE has come and gone and left Ben’s room in shambles. Standing at the epicenter of the destruction is Ben, shoulders heaving with each breath, blood dripping from his right fist.

“Ben?” Poe asks, stepping gingerly over broken pieces of electronics and furniture strewn across the floor. “What happened?”

Turning quickly, Ben takes a step away from Poe, who freezes in his approach. Ben’s face is filled with anguish, guilt, and something else that Poe can’t entirely place. A chilling darkness so like the cold void of space emanates from his rigid form.

“Poe.” His voice is raw and ragged from rage. He slumps, tears filling his eyes, and Poe rushes forward to him. Heart thudding, he takes Ben’s warm face in his hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s aware of how he has to stand on tiptoes just to reach Ben like this. As he searches his lover’s face for clues as to the destruction—was he attacked?—he finds himself once more unable to find words. Except for two:

“I’m here.”

Slowly, slowly, Ben loosens the tight fists at his side and brings one up to press Poe’s hand against his face, closing his eyes as he leans into the caress. Beneath Ben’s hand Poe can feel the same slick, warm blood that has begun to pool by their feet, and a lump rises in his throat.

“What happened?” he asks again.

Arms encircle him, tightly holding body to heated body as Ben buries his face in Poe’s hair. “I’m being sent away,” Ben says, voice muffled. “My parents are sending me away. I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

The world seems to fade away, nothing left beyond Ben’s arms and the violent _thmp-thmp-thmp_ of his heart Poe can hear with his head pressed up against his lover’s chest.

He doesn’t want to speak, wants to let the world freeze in this moment. The moment before losing the man he loves. 

Can’t outfly time, he thinks.

“Where?”

Ben hesitates, body stiffening. “To be trained to be a Jedi.”

“A Jedi?” Poe asks, drawing back. “You?”

A dark chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“You’re going to meet Luke kriffing Skywalker!” Another laugh, one that hints of more to tell one day. Feeling as if his heart is already breaking, Poe can’t bring himself to laugh along. “I’ll miss you.”

“You know I love you.” It’s the first time the words have been out in the open, but they’re no surprise to either man.

“I know.”

 

vii

 

Laughing, Poe pulls his helmet from his head and bounces from his ship’s cockpit. Iolo, similarly mirthful, gestures rudely at Muran from his own cockpit. It’s all in jest, all part of another successful mission, and for the first time Poe doesn’t think of Ben.

Until he does, and it feels like the split-second stomach-drop of leaving hyperspace. He pushes the feeling away, waves away BB-8’s worried burble.

“You did good today, buddy,” he says, crouching down to pat his droid’s domed head.

“Commander.”

Poe stands and turns to find a young ensign with coiffed hair and the scent of too much caf. Instantly, he knows something is wrong. It’s the same feeling he gets when a system is too quiet, when a First Order TIE flies just a little too slowly, when a mission seems just a little too simple.

He wipes his hands against his orange flight suit, nods at the ensign to continue. The rest of Rapier is silent and hovering nearby, though they’ve got the presence of mind to at least pretend they’re checking their ships for damage.

“Sir, you’ve got a message.” Hands trembling, the ensign hands him a datapad. Her nerves pitch her voice up an octave, and Poe suddenly wonders how much she’s heard of his exploits.

He stares down at the pad, unable to make his eyes focus on the words. “Who’s it from?”

“It’s anonymous, but apparently they know you.”

“Thanks.”

She nods smartly, and he hardly notices her leave. Slowly, the meaning of the words glowing from the datapad become clear to him. A void seems to open up within his chest and he finds he can’t quite breathe.

_Jedi massacre. No survivors._

He can hear voices speaking to him, but he can’t make out what the words are, or who’s talking over the static filling his head. His helmet clunks against the hangar floor and he feels as if he is losing his grip on more than what’s in his shaking hands.

All he knows is that the world truly must be unfair, because Ben is never coming home.

 


	2. during

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't expect Kylo Ren at Jakku, nor does he expect the truth behind the helmet.

i

 

“Who speaks first? You speak first? I speak first?”

Not for the first time, Kylo Ren is thankful for the helmet that hides his face—hides the weakness that slips through when he’s unprepared. Seeing Poe’s face, that’s something he never expected here. That jawline he has traced a thousand times set defiantly, the soft hair he has stroked slick with sweat, those dark eyes that he once thought glowed like freshly brewed caf in the mornings now shining with hatred.

Anger burns in him at the sight. How dare Poe Dameron be here of all places, attempting to keep Luke from him? Did his mother send him, knowing who the pilot used to be to her son?

There’s fear there too, but there always is. Fear that Poe knows who he is beneath the mask, and that he came to Jakku hoping to confront him and bring him back. Fear that maybe, just maybe, Poe will succeed.

When the troopers drag the pilot away, Kylo Ren has to take a moment to get his emotions under some semblance of control. Leader Snoke always warns him of his emotions being too big, too raw, and it’s times like this that he understands those words.

Poe is an unexpected variable, but that doesn’t mean Kylo won’t tear him apart to find Luke. _You shouldn’t have come, it is too late for me_. _Now it’s too late for you_.

 

ii

 

Torture is what Poe expects, it’s what he’s prepared for. Nothing, he tells himself, will break him. He will die before he fails the Resistance—fails General Organa, with her warm eyes and sad smiles. He says nothing as his body is broken and bruised and burnt.

He didn’t expect Kylo Ren, the masked creature that haunts his sleepless nights, to be at Jakku. He doesn't expect him here either. He must be valuable indeed to demand Kylo’s attention.

When his form materializes from the shadows, his distorted voice ordering him to reveal the location of the map, Poe strains against the bonds holding him back, wanting more than anything to kill the monster that killed Ben. Kylo Ren splays his hand before Poe’s face, helmet tilted inquisitively.

Pain, bright and blinding and so unlike anything else Poe has felt before, bursts behind his eyes like an exploding fighter, and it’s all he can do to scream and wish for death. Memories flash unbidden through his mind: giving the data drive to BB-8 and telling the droid to run, that he’d return; General Organa giving him the mission, her mouth set with grim determination; Ben laughing, Ben with blood dripping from his hand, Ben, Ben, always Ben.

Kylo Ren jerks back as if burnt, and instantly the agony dissipates. Gasping for air, Poe slumps into the stiff torture chair. The only sounds in the empty chambers are his haggard breaths and the strange burbles of the interrogation droid, Kylo seemingly frozen where he stands.

“I’ll kill you,” he breathes, half-delirious with dehydration and pain. “For Ben.”

Without a word, Kylo sweeps from the room. He has the information he needs, but his mind is filled with Poe’s words.

 _For Ben_.

 

iii

 

His eyes on the bright orb that is Jakku, Kylo Ren can’t stop the bitter sorrow that pulls at him at the news of the pilot’s death. Poe Dameron, a name he has not heard for years before today, escaped his and the First Order’s grasp only to die on that sun-scorched rock that passes for a planet. He shouldn’t care, that part of him is now dead.

But he still does, somehow.

He lets the sorrow consume him, turns it into a flame of anger that licks at his bones, stokes the rage-fuelled embers burning in his breast.

As he turns from the massive viewport, fury pouring from him with every step, he can’t help but feel the phantom pain of a heart long torn from his body.

 

iv

 

Sitting with his legs stretched out in the grass of one of the hillocks, Poe watches the mismatched crowd disperse now that the _Falcon_ is well and gone. He turns his gaze to the sky, wondering just how heartbreaking anguish can co-exist so with the hope and celebratory joy he also feels.

Eyes above, he doesn't notice as General Organa climbs the soft slope to join him until she’s sat beside him, smoothing out the deep blue dress over her knees.

His spine snaps straight with respect and surprise. “General.”

“At ease, Poe. You and I both know I'm getting too old for this.”

“You're the best we've got, ma'am.”

“I could say the same of you.” The corner of her mouth quirks into her sly grin, but her eyes are filled with a monumental grief. Poe wonders if he could even understand a quarter of what she feels at this moment.

“I'm sorry—”

“Please,” she says, waving away his words, “I don't want anyone's pity.” He nods, understanding at least that much. “I need to tell you something.”

“I'm all ears.”

She pauses, hesitating in a way he's never seen before. When she speaks, he understands her unease.

“Ben is alive.” He stares at her, feels his mouth open with soundness words. “Kylo Ren didn't kill him. He _is_ him.”

“I”—he lets out a shaky breath, a humourless laugh—”I know.” And he does, really. All at once, he realises he’s known since Kylo’s taunting remark: _I didn’t know we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board_. The man he loved, lost, mourned, is the monster hiding behind that terrible mask. When he looked into the voids where Kylo’s eyes should be, Ben was looking back.

Leia's eyes glimmer with unshed tears, and of course they do, because Ben is her son and she has lost him too. He has no more words, only a lump in his throat that he can't seem to swallow away.

For the second time in Poe's life, Leia pulls him close and hugs him like a mother; warm and strong, with the heavy sadness of potential futures.

 

v

 

Heart hammering in his hollow chest, Poe ducks behind a discarded crate, an old Resistance rifle clutched in his arms. He knows Kylo Ren is nearby, his lightsaber crackling as he stalks the dim hangar. Compared to Kylo, Poe knows he stands no chance. Vividly, he remembers his blaster bolt frozen mid-shot, sizzling and filling the dry desert air with the scent of ozone.

As he attempts to still his quick breaths, Poe knows he is totally alone here. This was his own stupid plan, born of a stray, ignorant thought that Ben will come back for him. Now he’s here, and Ben— _Kylo Ren_ —is here too, and Poe feels it is finally his time to die. If Ben’s own father couldn’t call him back, how can he expect to?

“Poe Dameron,” Kylo drawls, voice distorted as much as the man buried in black. “I can feel you.” A sickening hum as the blade swings. “I thought you were dead.”

A shiver runs down Poe’s back. He lets his head fall back against the crate. His voice doesn’t come easy. “I'm not so easy to kill, Ben,” he says, and the name seems to burn his throat.

Heavy footsteps approach Poe’s hiding place, saber hissing and snapping as if channeling its master’s own anger. “Ben?” Kylo echoes.

Swallowing his fear, Poe stands to the shadow of the man he once knew. Letting his blaster fall to his side, he shows all the bravado he can. He’s going to die facing Kylo Ren down, not hiding like some coward. “You heard me. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

“Is he?”

He’s being taunted and he knows it, and he'll be damned if he's not going to bite. “Show me your face.”

As if to think, Kylo pauses. His lightsaber snaps into silence, and a hand moves to his helmet. Poe watches as the mouthpiece folds back and Kylo slips the helmet from his head, revealing a shockingly familiar face. A face he thought he would never see again.

But there’s a scar, long and jagged, that tears across the skin. It’s this, and the darkness in his eyes, that keeps Poe from reaching out to comfort him. He knew this was going to hurt, but he never expected this, his heart shattering all over again.

“Is this what you wanted?” Kylo asks, his voice all too like Ben’s as he circles the row of containers. His eyes crinkle with a dark grin, so like, yet so unlike the boyish smiles Poe remembers. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Kylo’s grin falters, is replaced by furrowed brows. Though his stance barely changes, the harshness somehow seems to melt from his body. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “Ben’s still in here. The love he feels for you, too.” Blood freezing, Poe says nothing, unable to speak as Kylo moves closer, not unlike a predator stalking its prey. “We could be together again, you and I.”

“Could we?”

Voice filling with sudden emotion, Kylo lowers his head. “I’m struggling so much, Poe. Hurting beyond belief.” Hearing Ben’s voice speak his name once more is almost more than Poe can stand, and the taller man’s close presence is near intoxicating. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can help you,” Poe says, free hand reaching for Kylo’s face. “Please, come home.”

“We both know it's too late for that.” A pause; a brief moment where fingers brush skin with the softness of a time long gone. 

With a rush of passion, hunger, longing, they come together in a desperate kiss. "Join me," Kylo breathes, and for a moment Poe stands on the edge of a knife-thin precipice. On one side: the Resistance, Finn and Rey and Leia, the fight for peace and justice. On the other: Ben, the man he loved and loves still, and a chance to turn him back to the light. He leans one way, tempted so by desperate lips and warm breath.

Then he tightens his grip on his blaster, pushes himself away from Kylo Ren even as his chest aches. “No. I can’t.”

Sneering, seemingly unfazed by his moment of weakness—or manipulation, Poe realizes—Kylo reignites his ragged blade. “You were always weak. Always a slave for your broken Republic.”

An explosion rocks the ship, sending both men stumbling and filling Poe with a surprised joy.

“The Resistance is here,” he says, laughing even as he catches himself on his knees. Another explosion sets off a chain reaction, and the floor bucks and rocks with massive tremors. When Kylo regains his footing, Poe has disappeared into the shadows, in much the same way Ben used to.

 

vi

 

The message is brief, but it’s Ben—really, actually him—not the creature that calls itself Kylo Ren. Heart racing, Poe replays the holorecording two, three, four more times. His words are clear, and are, Poe hopes, genuine.

“ _I need to see you. Please. Come alone._ ” There are coordinates too, for a planet outside the growing grasp of the First Order. A safe meeting place. Probably.

Surely, surely there’s no reason for Ben to trick him. He’s no commanding officer, no Jedi hero. He is just Poe Dameron. 

 

vii

 

He’s there, seated on a ruined staircase with his head in his hands and his helmet at his feet. The vulnerable angles of his body familiar, yet altered by the dark robes he wears. Silently, Poe lets himself embrace the moment of short-lived peace as it hangs in the air like his frosted breath.

When he takes his first step towards Ben, he knows he’s not ready for whatever will come next. He also knows no matter how long he takes to steel himself he never will be. But, his life has never been about waiting for things to be easy.

Looking almost childlike, Ben raises his head. Dark shadows ring pained eyes.

“Are you alone?” he asks, standing.

“If this is a trap, I’m screwed,” Poe says, a wry smile twisting his lips. “So, is it one?”

“No.” A chilling breeze teases Ben’s hair. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither of us should be.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Poe raises his eyebrows in a gesture that he hopes looks more confident than he feels. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill the Jedi. Kill Han Solo.”

Silently, Ben shakes his head. “I didn’t come here to talk about this,” he says, his voice quiet.

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves of the trees behind Poe. “Why did you come here, then?”

Ben closes the gap between them with wide strides, the milky-white mist curling in his wake, and Poe doesn’t fight the arms encircling his waist. _Just for a moment, let me forget_ , he thinks, letting his head rest against Ben’s warm chest just like in his memories.

Lips brush his ear softly. “I wish we were dead.”

Chest tightening with unknown fear, Poe tilts his head to look up into the eyes of the taller man, trying to read the meaning behind the whispered words.

The crunch of frozen foliage underfoot cracks through the air like a blaster bolt. The two pull apart, the real world rushing back, as they search for the source of the sound.

Leia steps from the dark treeline, a royal blue coat draped over her shoulders and an elegant blaster clutched in one hand. She looks fatigued in much the same way as Ben, though there are attempts to hide it with makeup and tight braids.

Ben steps back like an animal on the defensive, and his saber is suddenly in his hand, hissing and sputtering in the mist. “You said you were alone.”

“Wait—” Poe says, and he thinks he hears Leia’s voice with his, but as he turns back to Ben there’s a harsh hum, and a hot pain slicing across his lower back. Agony tears up his spine, a scream pours from his lips.

He is on the ground, dark fog filling his vision and his body simultaneous burning, freezing—

Then—

Starlight. The void. Nothing.


	3. after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's guilt in victory, and even more in loss.

i

 

Soft hands—those of a young dignitary and not a trained murderer—cup Poe’s heated face with delicate care. Lips brush his, sweet, warm, familiar, and somehow beyond comprehension—because how can Ben be here with him? 

_ I wish we were dead _ .

He thinks that maybe Ben’s whispered wish has been granted and they are both dead after all, their bodies left to freeze on that desolate ruin-world. If this is death, the afterlife, the Force, it’s not so bad, not really.

So Poe lets himself drift away with Ben, two lost souls floating in a vast, sun-warmed ocean, dark eyes blind to the world.

 

ii

 

He is ice cold, his body frozen and unable to move. Panic flares through him, but there is no heat in it, nothing to melt the chill that holds him in place. 

Poe is alive, but barely. Perhaps his body has already ceased to be, while his mind clings desperately to life for a few precious moments more.

Seconds of life stretch into minutes, then hours, and slowly voices emerge from the white noise filling his ears, though he can’t make sense of what they say. They’re not speaking to him anyway, rather talking around him as if he is a void of silence among them, something not to be directly looked at as the cold fingers of death probe his ribs.

Loneliness fills his chest, floods his entire being as he realizes Ben is not beside him—has likely not been since nearly killing him. Everything else was simply a feverish, dying dream.

So here Poe lies: broken, half-dead, and aching for something long gone. Trapped and afraid, he can almost understand Ben’s wish; and yet, Poe still grasps at the light.

For the first time in weeks, he opens his eyes.

 

iii

 

Though shadows obscure half her face, Rey burns bright like a flame, and Kylo thinks perhaps it is only fire that may save him now. The flare of a blade, the light of a sun, the blazing compassion deep in her heart. Dead or alive, he must burn for all that he has done.

Neither Leia nor Poe, the pilot Kylo Ren—or is it really Ben now?—nearly killed out of fear and a blind, instant rage, have been to see him. But here Rey is, her shining brown eyes taking in this shadow of a man. He sits cross-legged on the floor behind a shield of reinforced transparisteel, seemingly shrunken. Where she has grown in spirit and strength, he has dwindled. 

“I suppose you don’t need a teacher anymore,” he says, a blunted edge to his voice.

Her chapped lips remain a tight line. “I found a better one.” Lowering his gaze, he feels the pull of her light. “You were never meant for the dark,” she says softly. With a whisper of fabric, she is gone, off to be the hero Ben never could be; the hero Kylo Ren never wanted to be.

 

iv

 

“We won.” 

Poe always thought the words would be sweet, like the syrup on those fried breakfasts his mother used to make. Instead they taste like ash, like death. They smell of metal and blood, of the laserfire that slaughtered so many. Victory in a war is no easy thing, the smiles at the end weary and masking sorrow.

But there is no smile on Ben’s face, downcast and obscured in darkness. Behind the transparisteel barrier he is silent and small. Using the barrier to support himself, Poe seats himself beside the cell, his bones aching deep within his body. Resting his head against the transparent wall, he lets out a deep breath. 

“It doesn’t feel like a victory. You know I can’t fly anymore? Thanks to you.” He gulps, trying to swallow a lump that tastes of death. “Body’s too tired for quick reactions. Implants can only do so much.” Not completely true; rehabilitation will return the skills he has lost, but something dark inside him wants Ben to suffer.

And Ben does, his body shuddering. Poe wonders if he’s holding back sobs, or laughter. All he feels is a fatigued emptiness. 

“I thought you’d betrayed me,” Ben says, his voice giving away that even he knows this is a weak excuse. His anger grew too strong, too hot, and it cost him everything.

Poe laughs without humour. “You’d know all about betrayal.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says, and the words are genuine; but there is no way to ever express the impossible weight of emotions he needs to begin to make amends. He presses the palms of his hands to his eyes, as if he can shut out this world and return to a warmer, brighter past.

“You know what I hate the most about all of this?” Poe asks, his quiet voice barely echoing in this dim place.

Raising his head, Ben takes in the man leaning against the wall that holds him from freedom. He wears official, pressed clothes, and he still has the hint of a smile on his face, as if at any moment he’ll burst into his joyous laughter. His eyes though, they are dark and lost. Half of him is the man Ben remembers, the other half is someone dead and beyond his reach. 

“What?” he asks.

“I still miss you.” 

Almost before the words register in Ben’s mind, Poe is pushing himself back to his feet with pained groans. He wants to say something, but the fear that Poe will leave and he will never see him again grips his heart in a cold vice.  _ I miss you too. I need you. I love you _ . The words all die in his throat before they are given life, and then Poe is gone too, just like Rey.

They are of the light, and they will always leave. 

 

v

 

“Do I think you should forgive him?” The crease between Finn’s eyebrows deepens. “Why would you ask me?”

Taking a swig of the amber drink before him, Poe grins. “You gave up the whole First Order for what they did. Would  _ you _ forgive him?”

Finn sits back in his chair, resting his arms over the back. He has no poker face, and mixed emotions are clearly shown in his eyes. “I think everyone deserves forgiveness.”

“Even Snoke?” 

“Well, there are some exceptions.” Their laughter fills the room, a sound so desperately needed after so much loss. Poe quiets first, his eyes far away, and Finn’s chest tightens. “You’re wondering if Ben’s an exception.” It’s not a question. “He did help us end the war.”

Tapping his fingertips against his glass, Poe chews his lip. “He didn’t have much of a choice there.”

“We  _ always _ have a choice.”

 

vi

 

Hiding in the shadows of the prison, Poe breathes deeply, ready to face Ben again. His guts churn, not unlike the feeling before a big mission. Anxiety mingles with adrenaline.

Before he can take a step, General Organa emerges from another door flanked by Resistance guards. Poe presses himself against the wall, feeling as if his every breath echoes through the hall like klaxons. Leia doesn’t turn in his direction, her attention totally focused on her son. Standing, Ben looks down at her through the barrier, his broad shoulders raised like an animal on the defensive. 

“Finally decided what to do with me, mother?”

“Don’t try to guilt me,” Leia says, voice laced with steel. She’s not a mother here, only a general. “You haven’t considered me your mother in years.”

Lowering his gaze, he lets dark, dirty hair falls over his face. “You’re wrong,” he says, voice so low Poe almost misses the words. Leia replies, her voice quieter still, and he can’t quite make out what she’s saying. Ben remains silent, his eyes avoiding those of his mother, searching the darkness until they meet Poe’s. A shock runs through the once pilot, his breath catching in his throat. How long has Ben known he was here?

Leia’s voice rises back to its normal volume. “You’ll be granted amnesty, but only if you agree to have Rey lock away your memories.”

Ben laughs, a dark chuckle deep in his throat. “A mind wipe?”

“No. She won’t erase anything. It will all be there, just where you can’t touch it. There is a monster in you we can’t set free.”

“And what if I say no? Will you kill me?” he asks, taunting.

Leia crosses her arms, eyebrows raised. “You’ll be left to rot in a prison cell for the rest of your life.”

He touches his chest, feigning distress, though Poe can read the real fear and desperation not far beneath. “No string-pulling for your own son’s sake?” 

“This is me pulling strings. Luke was always the forgiving one, but I’m trying to give you a second chance. For once in your life stop being so damn stubborn and take it.” The shadow of Vader seems to hover over Leia, a spectre even a woman of her strength has been unable to banish after all these years.

Shifting his weight, Ben nods ever-so-slightly. “Fine. You take away my memories. What then?”

“A volunteer caretaker will take you far from here, far from the Republic and the eyes of the citizens who would rather have your head. You’ll be safe.”

Before he knows it, words are falling from Poe’s mouth.

“I’ll do it,” he says, stepping from the shadows. Leia turns, and there is no surprise in her expression. “If this is the way to protect the peace, I’ll volunteer.”

Leia’s shoulders slump millimeters, incrementally giving way to her insurmountable grief. Poe wonders if one day she’ll break, an avalanche of emotion crushing her small frame. He can’t imagine it. “I can’t ask you to do that, Poe.” There’s more to her words than she would ever admit aloud;  _ I can’t lose another son _ .

“You don’t have to ask.”

 

vii

 

Shadows stretch across the overgrown garden as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. They are huddled in the grass beneath the twisting boughs of the old tree his mother used to tell him was special, a tree that Poe always seems to find Ben near. Maybe his mother wasn’t far off. It’s another humid evening despite the breeze rustling the leaves above, and each breath feels like inhaling overwarm water.

They are two broken people, of a generation born from hope and thrown into a bloody conflict of their parents’ creation. They have watched suns not unlike the one now staining their skin orange die. The ghosts of war will haunt them until their own deaths, though, Poe knows, they too will fade in time.

He almost envies Ben’s wiped memory—but there is too much good mixed in with the bad to ever truly make him want to forget. Jess’s grin as she pulls her helmet free; Finn’s infectious laughter; Rey’s carefully guarded hugs, each as precious as the rare gems adoring General Organa’s rings.

His black-and-orange X-wing is here too, buried beneath a tarp next to another T-70 painted the usual Resistance colours. One of these days he’ll show his ship the sunlight, slip into the cockpit and feel the freedom of flight once more. Maybe he’ll even take Ben out, guide his slender fingers over the ship’s controls and teach him how to fly again, if his wiped mind has forgotten even that.

Stroking Ben’s hair softly, Poe wonders if this is the peace his parents so desperately wanted for him. Maybe here, now, regaining his strength every new day as he tills soil, sows seeds, and prays he still remembers how to coax life from the dense earth, he’ll finally be able to live. 

Ben murmurs Poe’s name, raising his head from the other man’s shoulder. His lips brush Poe’s cheek, and a shiver runs down the pilot’s spine. He remembers when he encountered Kylo Ren in the hangar, how he had wanted to forget everything terrible and fall into a kiss. Tilting his head to meet Ben’s mouth with his own, he does just that.

The golden light trickles away into night, but Poe and Ben are too immersed in their regained love to notice, entwined in each other’s arms beneath shimmering stars. 

 


End file.
